Shoulda Just Called Him Whiskey
by frm93
Summary: What if what you had been working so hard to build up had come crashing down with one kiss.
1. Chapter 1

What if what you had been working so hard to build up had come crashing down with one kiss.

Joan had tried very hard to keep her feelings down. She didn't even hint at them towards Sherlock. At first she did it because he was her client. Now that he wasn't her client, what was the point in hidding her feelings? The only reasons she could muster up were that it could ruin their friendship and any potential cases that would come their way. For those reasons, she kept her feelings hidden; very sucessfully, she might add. But one night, a snow storm, and a bottle of whiskey changed everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. I wanted to make sure this was perfect before I published it because I am using a personal experience to write this story. So I hope you like it.**

"Sherlock, why are all our emergency supplies missing?" Joan asked as she entered the living room.

Sherlock was occupying a chair while staring at the latest case they were working on.

"Because, Watson, I needed them for the case," Sherlock replied matter-of-factly.

"You decide to use our emergency supplies at a time when we actually need them? Sherlock, a storm is coming. I don't know if I will be able to go out and buy more before the snow storm hits."

"We will be fine, Watson. Storms like this happen all the time. Stop worrying so much," Sherlock said with a wave of his hand.

"Fine; but if you get hungry or thirsty don't complain," Joan said angrily as she stormed out of the room.

"Oh, Watson? Call Gregson. I have figured out who the killer is."

...

"I told you we would need our emergency supplies," Joan said angrily.

The storm had sent the whole city into a blackout and Joan was freezing. She was wearing every warm piece of clothing she owned and she was still freezing. She was sitting in the warmest spot on the couch and she was still freezing.

"This is all the supplies we need," Sherlock said as he came into the room with a bottle of whiskey.

Joan rolled her eyes as Sherlock poured the whiskey into two shot glasses.

"Here," Sherlock said as he handed Joan one of the shot glasses. "This should warm you up right quick."

Joan sighed as she took the shot glass from Sherlock. Sherlock gave her a smile before throwing back his own shot.

"Watson, really, I know you're freezing. Just drink the shot," Sherlock said as he poured himself another shot.

"Fine," Joan said as she brought the shot glass to her lips.

Joan drank her shot tentatively and scrunched up her face. Immediately Joan felt warmth course through her body.

"See? Not so bad; and now you are warmer," Sherlock said with a grin.

"Yeah, I'm definitely warmer."

"Good," Sherlock said as he reached for Joan's shot glass. "Another one will make you even warmer."

"I don't think so, Sherlock," Joan said as Sherlock poured her another shot of whiskey.

"Come on, Watson. It's not like we have anywhere to go," Sherlock said with a playful smile.

Sherlock handed Joan back her full shot glass and reached for his. He held his up and hit it against Joan's.

"Cheers," Sherlock said as he threw back his second shot.

Joan gave in and tried to throw back her second shot. Again she scrunched up her face and let out a small cough. Sherlock then proceeded to pour a third round and Joan did not protest this time. Joan was feeling warmer as her senses started numbing around the edges. Before long they had finished half the bottle and were laughing to the point of tears.

Somewhere around the third quarter of the bottle, Joan and Sherlock wound up on the floor using each other as support.

"So for months I had to walk around with this big bald spot on my head," Joan laughed. "I wanted to kill my brother."

"And then I would have been hired to track you down!" Sherlock fell against Joan laughing.

After a few minutes their laughter died down and all that could be heard was their breathing and the wind whipping outside.

"What are you thinking?" Sherlock asked.

That was a dangerous question. What was she thinking? She has just drank almost a whole bottle of whiskey with the man that she had feelings for. She hated being asked that question. It always led her to places she didn't like going emotion wise.

"You," Joan answered before she could stop herself.

"Me?" Sherlock inquired. "What about me?"

"Just, what made you able to go to rehab? I know it was all your father's doing, but how were you able to stay?" Joan asked.

Sherlock looked at John thoughtfully before he answered. "I, uh, I just realized that I didn't want the drugs to control me anymore. Everyone around me was getting hurt by my shameful decisions. I couldn't bear that anymore."

"When was the last time you did drugs? What happened?"

Sherlock leaned back against the couch. "I had just completed a case and was paid handsomely in drugs because the lady that hired me couldn't be caught with drugs on her person. She didn't know what they were and I was too tired to care. I took them with me back to my apartment. I laid the powder out on the table in a line and snorted the whole stash. I don't remember anything after that."

Joan stared at Sherlock. She had never met anyone so careless as to take drugs that were unknown to both the owner and the receiver.

"I know you think I am an idiot for doing that. At the time I honestly didn't care what I was doing just so long as I was doing something and getting a good reaction," Sherlock continued.

"I'm in no position to be accusatory," Joan replied.

"Of course you are. You're my _sober companion."_

"Not anymore," Joan said quietly.

"Watson, please don't leave me because of this," Sherlock pleaded.

"That's not what I mean, Sherlock. I mean that your father didn't rehire me."

"Oh," was all Sherlock could say.

"Sorry I didn't tell you before," Joan said.

"It's quite alright, Watson."

They sat together quietly for quite some time before Joan began to shiver.

"Are you cold again?" Sherlock asked.

"A little," Joan replied.

Sherlock wrapped his arm around Joan and pulled her close. "No sense in both of us being cold. At least this way we can keep each other warm."

As Joan snuggled into Sherlock, she could hear his heart beating. She listened to the rhythm and noticed her's couldn't slow to his pace. Joan looked up into Sherlock's face taking it all in. The crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips...

Sherlock caught Joan staring at him.

"What are you thinking about, Watson?"

**A/N: I just couldn't stop writing! I got lost in the memories and lost in telling the story. Kind of a cliff hanger there but don't worry, the next chapter will be up very soon! Let me know what you think of this chapter. Message me if you think I did something wrong or if something should be different. Thanks :)**


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